Living and writing in a circa 1840 New England Farmhouse with three generations of my family
Life here at 1840 Farm can get pretty dirty. Spring has only been here for a few weeks, yet the never-ending trail of garden soil has already started to appear in our mudroom. I’ll spend ten minutes every evening from now until winter trying to Read More
I’ve just finished reading The Bucolic Plague by Josh-Kilmer Purcell. I was sorry to turn the last page. I enjoyed it too much. I found myself laughing out loud on multiple occasions. I may need a moment to mourn the loss of a great read. I find Read More
It’s official. It’s fall. I know, I know. I’m supposed to embrace this change. I should get out my favorite sweater, go apple picking, and buy a pumpkin. I don’t want to. Instead, I want to invite summer to stay a while longer. I want to thumb my nose at Mother Nature. I want her to understand in no uncertain terms that she can keep her beautiful foliage if I can keep my tomato patch a while longer.
This just in. I harvested 17 pounds of organic, fresh produce from the 1840 Farm gardens yesterday. I feel proud. I feel victorious. I feel exhausted. This is the time of year that the hours of labor in our gardens finally seem to make sense. That Read More
I have always liked eggplant. Problem is, I have always disliked the way it was prepared. I never understood the point of covering it in a coating of breadcrumbs an inch thick and then frying it in oil. What ended up on my plate tasted of oil and stale bread without even a hint of the eggplant lying in repose underneath.
It’s time that I came clean. I love tomatoes. No really. I love them. Not the languishing in the produce aisle in February variety. Sorry. You may label me a tomato snob, but I can’t help it. If you’ve ever tasted an heirloom tomato fresh from your garden, still warm from sunlight, then you’ll understand. If you haven’t, get thee to a local farmer’s market. Immediately.